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The Queen and Mrs Barlow

By far my favourite story of the year is the Jimmy Carr, and now Gary Barlow, tax avoidance 'schadenfreude'. This is gold. There's nothing greater than a pompous media figure, particularly one that prides himself on his wit, being taken down a peg or two. Don't get me wrong, I love comedians, but Carr ain't a patch on Carlin or Hicks, who are as relevant today as they ever were. So it makes me laugh when I see Jimmy Carr, fresh from his stints as presenter/stand up on 10 0 clock Live where he did a skit satirising tax avoidance, exposed as a tax avoider. All legal of course. well that's ok then.

Far more entertaining is the hopefully-imminent downfall of Dame Very Ly...sorry I mean Gary Barlow. The new nation's wartime sweetheart. He's gone from a failed solo career, where his self penned middle of the road 90's shite was the backing track to one of the flattest weakest singing voices I've ever heard, to bored housewives fantasy and national icon. Over recent years he's been behind equally bland charity lineups for concerts, comic relief events and of course the recent godawful Diamond Jubilee anthem. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was obviously short of cash in spite of the sale of Take That albums (not his solo stuff surely) that he had to hawk tat for Marks and Sparks! And as if that wasn't bad enough, he butchered my favourite Beatles song, Here Comes The Sun! That alone is a hanging offence in most countries. But no, Dame Gary can do no wrong.

Except it seems to not pay his tax on the eve that his work in corralling performances from black folks throughout our former colonies was to net him an OBE (for services to caterwauling and the deadening of creativity no doubt). Good work! 

What makes me laugh is that the person out of all of us that should be most offended by this revelation is the Queen herself. The royal family are dependent on taxation for their income and people like Gary and of course Jimmy are literally taking food from her mouth! Well ok, stealing quail's eggs and pheasants from her pantry.

It's all such a joke. The queen herself is now perhaps the most loved person on the planet. Even a returning Christ, fresh off the UFO, couldn't compete with post-jubilee Britain's admiration of this bland old lady. This is a woman in an increasingly and historically emasculated position: the role of Queen is irrelevant, she has no powers to make laws and never, it seems, any interest to do so. Even Charles, nut that he is, is more opinionated! Yet that seems to increase public admiration for her even more! Monarchists contend that she is to be supported and admired, more now than ever, precisely because she has fuck all power and nothing to do except sit around and play xbox (wouldn't you?). 

Imagine if John, in data entry, was kept in his job after being replaced by computers capable of doing what he did automatically. We don't need John, but he's now a greater asset to the company precisely because of this. So we keep him in his own opulent office upstairs where he gets to sit and listen to Take That and watch Jimmy Carr DVD's all day, at the company's expense!


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